


in love or in anger; a sonnet.

by motherofrevels



Series: valentine Bambi eyes (negative) [4]
Category: Onward (2020)
Genre: Angst, Brother/Brother Incest, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugs, Drunk Texting, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofrevels/pseuds/motherofrevels
Summary: While Barley quickly found himself reeling in the typhoon that was college life at Willowdale, Iandore found himself faced with a newfound emptiness in his once bustling home.—Part 3/4 of the negative outcome timeline for 'valentine Bambi eyes'.
Relationships: Barley Lightfoot/Ian Lightfoot, Sadalia Brushthorn/Ian Lightfoot
Series: valentine Bambi eyes (negative) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731595
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	in love or in anger; a sonnet.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This is a work of fiction containing explicit content involving siblings engaging in sexual conduct. If this bothers you, please feel free to check out some of the other amazing works of fiction by other, far more talented writers here on Archive of Our Own. Thank-you. <3

Barley Lightfoot's first and second years of college seemed to flicker by, and the end of his third year was swiftly approaching. His venture toward a Bachelor's Degree in History—Minoring in both Mythology, and Ancient Magicks—was quickly entering its home stretch. 

He'd always found himself lacking in most areas of general education, but History was his passion. The journals left behind by adventurers of days gone-by; the tall tales they spun, and the artifacts they would pass down, had always filled him with a sense of wonder. 

A wonder he felt truly blessed to have been granted the opportunity to further explore.

Life after his harrowing quest with his father and younger brother had changed things for he and his family dramatically. 

Not all at once, but over time. 

At first, they were the talk of the town; people going out of their way to ask for pictures with them, or autographs. Corey—the famed Manticore adventurer with whom their mother made fast friends—had mentioned to them that spell-casters of Iandore's caliber hadn't existed in the world for nearly a millennia. 

There was still a wealth of research yet to be completed on this phenomenon in the area of genetic studies, let alone the likelihood of a child developing such a gift. And as soon as his senior year in High School would come to a close—a stipulation set in place by his mother, Laurel—Iandore Lightfoot was to be at the forefront of it all.

There were still times when their first (and grandest) quest seemed like a dream. Even though only a few years had passed, their father Wilden's final sunset seemed like a distant memory. 

Distant, but not forgotten.

And while Barley quickly found himself reeling in the typhoon that was college life at Willowdale, Iandore found himself faced with a newfound emptiness in his once bustling home.

For Ian, the events that followed his adventure were an unremarkable annoyance. His schoolmates sensationalized him, and the local news stations attempted to celebritize him. But all he wanted was for things to return to the state in which he recognized.

Of course, he understood the weight of his own situation; he was the first confirmed mage in many, many years. And while that was all very exciting, people didn't seem to understand that his primary focus in first unlocking and cultivating this newfound power, was never for personal glory. 

It was for a chance to meet with the man who helped bring him into this world. A man who, due to circumstances beyond his control and initial understanding, he would never get meet.

But Ian took solace in the fact that despite this, he would always have his elder brother, Barley. The man who had gone out of his way to take on a fatherly role throughout the entirety of Ian's youth. The man who had stood by his side—hand in hand—through roaring waves and bitter hellfire. The man who would always be there to teach, nurture, and comfort him.

Until one day, he wasn't anymore.

Swept up by the winds of change they'd both always known to be inevitable. 

But that knowledge didn't ease the pain of separation, or make it any less real.

Through his seemingly never-ending flurry of scholastic accolades, Ian had always been his mother's crowning achievement. If you'd asked nearly anyone at New Mushroomton High School which stars shone the brightest among their contemporaries, Iandore Lightfoot would undoubtedly be named The Sun.

A sun which would succumb to an unforeseen death in the weeks following Barley's absence. 

Originally projected by the school board to graduate a year early, a series of unexpected failing classes held him back a year, and his road to recovery had been rocky. His grades never entirely made the comeback that everyone expected, sputtering along at the high end of average. 

Laurel was crushed.

She'd tried everything she could think of to return his grades to their former glory. And while he'd reluctantly agreed to the counseling and the therapy, the first of his private tutors had quit within the first week; claiming that Ian had attempted to engage in inappropriate conduct with him in exchange for better scores. 

The screaming match that ensued that evening was the first of many to occur over the course of the following year; both Ian and his mother crying themselves to sleep on nights like those.

Barley was heartbroken; he felt the full brunt of his responsibility in his younger brother's fall from grace. 

But little could be done. 

Ian had been refusing his calls, and leaving his texts unread since he'd first arrived on campus. He'd even gone so far as to attempt making calls from the phones of his newfound friends. But when Ian would answer to find his brother to be the source, the line would go dead.

Upon returning home for his first year's summer break, Barley had finally been able to corner the little fey into conversing with him, but wasn't entirely sure he even recognized Ian anymore.

In body, he appeared mostly unchanged; all periwinkle skin and bones, cherubic face kissed by freckles and topaz curls. 

But the venom had spread too far. 

Around his mother and her Centaur lover, Ian was quiet and polite, albeit a touch frosty. Not too far from the boy he once was, save for the recent loss of his raw nerve.

But when he'd crawled into Barley's bed that first summer night, the kisses and caresses he shared were heavy with resentment and painted in cruelty. The ethereal innocence that once trademarked him, had been replaced by a dark, broken, emptiness that made Barley's heart ache. And when the dreamscicle days of his freshman summer came to a close, Ian would turn his back on him all over again.

It was all Barley could do to keep his head on straight as he began his second year at Willowdale. 

He thought back to the frail, starved little boy he'd clutched to his chest in the bed of Guinevere the Second, years ago. 

_'I'm changing, Barley'_ , Ian had said then. And _now_ , Barley realized it to have been a warning.

But he still had faith. Ian was a good boy. 

Ian was _his_ good boy. And nothing could ever change that. 

Nothing perhaps, except the passage of time.

Iandore could still remember the ice in his veins when Barley's relationship status had changed over social media. The way his stomach pitted and lurched. The way he felt his lungs seize; first struggling for air, then unable to slow his breathing.

That was the first of many nights Ian stole from Colt's little collection of spirits. Pulling a smaller bottle of whiskey, and downing it with what started off as a few of his prescribed sedatives. 

But when the panic, hurt, and confusion refused to dissipate, he took a few more. 

And before he realized it, the bottle was empty.

Laurel would go looking for Ian the next afternoon to find him in Barley's bed, still fully clothed, curled up in a pile of his brother's dirty laundry—seemingly awake but unresponsive. 

He couldn't remember the ride in the ambulance. He couldn't remember anything before waking up to the familiar sensation of whiskers against his forehead, accompanied by the distinct scent of a long-burning campfire.

And when Ian forced his eyes to open, struggling to focus against the merciless hospital lighting; he found himself drowning beneath the tearful, sundown-colored stare of his elder brother.

A clamor would erupt around him then, Barley exploding into white noise that Ian couldn't quite make out. And then came the crowd: His mother, her boyfriend, and a few members of medical staff. But after the shouting was done, and the kisses were given, he noticed someone new.

Someone so beautiful, he physically ached at her shy wave and cautious approach. 

Ian stared blankly at his elder brother as he sheepishly introduced her, draping a large arm around her dainty shoulders. 

And Ian wanted to die.

But he couldn't even do so much as scream. His body wasn't quite responding. He wasn't sure if it ever would again. And at this stage, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't so sure he cared.

Barley had awakened him with a kiss, only to punish him with his replacement.

Iandore begged for the familiar comfort of tears in his eyes. Begged for a scream to bubble forth. Begged for anything to help him relieve the pressure in his chest.

But nothing came.

For days, nothing came.

But in time, he found a renewed strength; first in grief, and next in jealousy.

In the months that followed, Ian had become uncharacteristically sociable, which both his mother and Colt initially thought to be a huge step in the right direction. He'd always been a particularly shy boy—ever the wallflower. 

But just as he'd promised his elder brother, _he was changing_.

Any party he could attend, _he did_. Some he was invited to, and others he would invite _himself_ to. 

Sadalia Brushthorn—an inquisitive girl to whom he'd been introduced years ago—was his designated wingman at these social events. She was fun, she could hold her liquor, and she never judged. Ian felt like he could tell her very nearly anything. But in truth, it was Barley who had reached out to her over social media, with a request that she kept a watchful eye on his baby brother during his outings.

He'd even offered her money, if she'd stick it out and stay with him through these neon light nights, but she declined to accept any form of payment.

Of course _Barley_ was worried, but in truth, _she_ was worried about Ian, too.

She saw the way Ian partied, and she knew it was far too hard. _She hated it_ , but she was afraid to break his trust. She also hated the way he would find a few of the biggest, meanest looking bastards available at these gatherings, and disappear with them throughout the night in random intervals.

These men _scared_ her, and Ian looked so _frail_ next to them. If anything went sour, she knew she could't pull them off of him.

Sadalia had a suspicion she knew what was happening to Ian, but she dared not speak it. If she was wrong, she would be risking their relationship. But if she was right, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be. 

She'd seen the way Ian looked at his older brother in the past, and it certainly wasn't the way she'd ever seen anyone _else_ look at their siblings. 

She remembered a time when Barley would look at Iandore that very same way, and remorsefully, some part of her wished she could understand what might have gone wrong.

Barley was brash, and could be insensitive, but every inch of him professed an unyielding love and blind dedication to his brother. Sadalia knew, Barley could never hurt Iandore.

But that could only mean . . .

She narrowed her eyes as she watched the sylphine golden-boy slosh his drink over the edge of his disposable cup; his chocolate doe eyes alight with a familiar glow of aspartame that soured her stomach. He was conversing with a man who seemed much too old to have been invited to this party.

Could _Ian_ have placed the wedge in he and Barley's relationship? 

She couldn't imagine it. 

" _Ian!_ " she called over the cacophony of music and banter, offering a small wave of urgency. "Can I talk to you?"

Both Ian and his (rather large) companion glanced her way, Ian smiling and waving back in a childlike manner that went straight to her heart. He seemed to say something to his new 'friend', that made the big man toss her a glance that seeped irritation. 

But before she knew it, Ian's willowy form was swaying back toward her. 

"Sadie~!" he drew, sounding a bit feline. "What's up~?" His smile never quite reached his eyes, pupils heavily dilated.

Sadalia's brows knit together, mouth opening to say something as Iandore leaned in to kiss her—Bambi eyes flickered downward in confusion as soft fingers held his full lips.

" _Ah, ah, ah,_ " she smiled, shaking her head. "I'd _love_ a kiss, but I know _exactly_ where that mouth's been tonight, and _none_ of that was for me."

Ian looked dazed for a moment, then giggled at her, backing away in a showy swirl that almost toppled him over. "Fine~," he whinged, artificial sweetener in his voice, "Your loss~."

Sadalia giggled back at first, but her eyes shone with concern. "Hey, _Ian_ ," she began, summoning him back to her with an outstretched hand (which he gladly accepted). " _Look at me_ , honey," she pleaded, earning another giggle as Ian complied, leaning in a bit _too_ closely. 

The rhinestones she'd carefully arranged at his cheekbones before they headed out tonight, were now carelessly smeared across his dewy face; freckles and stars swimming together in a sea of blue rose.

She felt herself flush under the warm intensity of her longtime friend's distant gaze. 

There was a childlike purity to Iandore—somewhere beneath his newfound edge—that gleamed through when his guard was down. Sadalia knew this to be the _real_ him; forced to adapt to the cruelty of a world for which he was far too pure. And she found it all so very enchanting.

She knew she could never blame Barley for falling in love with a creature like this. 

Iandore Lightfoot, was designed to be loved.

And life, had poisoned him.

Sweat glistened at the bridge of Ian's nose and upper lip; cotton candy hair plastered against his forehead, eyes rounded and glassy. His stare—beautiful as it may be—was completely empty.

And Sadalia felt her heart crack.

"H- _hey, Ian_ ," she began again, "Sweetheart, did you _take anything?_ " she asked, already knowing the answer. 

Ian quickly shook his head at first—a lie upon impulse—before slowing into a nod. A sweet smirk lit his petal-soft lips, followed by another giggle.

"And what _was_ it?" she asked, trying to remain calm, grip tightening around her friend's hand to keep him focused on her. "Where did you get it from?"

Her concern darkened into a scowl when Ian turned to point at the rugged looking elf he'd been talking to previously. "He gave it to me in the bathroom~," he giggled with a shrug, feet wobbling beneath him. "I was hurting before, but everything feels great now~! You should try it!~"

"Baby-doll, I asked you _not_ to take things from people you _don't know_ ," she scolded, mind racing for answers as fire kissed her veins. "You _promised_ me you wouldn't do this again, and you _lied_. We had a deal. So I'm gonna take you _home_ now, 'kay?"

Ian's brows furrowed, eyes widening a bit more, making him appear wild and cartoonish. "But I don't _wanna_ go home~! I'm _lonely_ there—"

"I'll tuck you in, if we go home _right now_ ," Sadalia promised, swallowing as she noticed the man across the room was now carefully watching them. "And I _promise_ I won't tell Laurel. But I _have_ to get you home."

Iandore's eyes softened, falling to the girl's shimmering lips. The light reflected on them distracted him for a moment, but gave him a sense of clarity. " _Okay_ , Sadie~ _Jeez_ ~," he slurred, rolling his expressive eyes back over to his former partner. "I've gotta _go_ , Daddy~ My friend's leaving~ She's my ride~," he called in a meow, waving enthusiastically.

Sadalia's blood ran cold, hissing Ian's name under her breath as she watched his _'Daddy'_ stride towards them.

"What's the problem?" the stranger asked, baritone voice rumbling over the music. He didn't even look at Ian—he was leering down at Sadalia. 

"I-I'm taking him _home_. He's had too much to drink," she informed, voice wavering. 

The stranger sneered as he attempted to put an arm around Ian to guide the boy back to his side, but Sadalia reeled the fragile mage in by the clammy hand she held. 

"There are _a lot of people_ in this room, and more _right out front_ ," she warned, voice enveloped in ice, even through her fear. "The _last thing_ you want is a _commotion_ , right? . . . Would be _our_ word versus _yours_ when the police showed up, that you gave this little guy something _off-the-market_ —"

" _Hey_ ~! I'm not _that_ little~!" Ian whined with a tiny spin, almost knocking himself back into his pursuer. Sadalia shushed him, yanking him back to her side in an instant. 

"Just _leave us alone_ , okay? I'm taking him _home_. Sorry if I spoiled your night," she spat, brows lowered into her best scowl as she turned to guide Ian out of the crowded living room, and out into the front lawn.

She cast one last glance back over her shoulder at the boy's pursuer; finding him to be watching them, but not following. She couldn't have asked for more than that, she supposed.

" _Wow~ My hero~_ ," Ian giggled, stumbling through the driveway as he was pulled along by his slightly shorter friend, who offered him a giggle in return.

"Well, that was _fucking terrifying_ ," Sadie laughed, opening her passenger's side door to guide her wiry friend inside. She carefully closed him in after ensuring his phone and bag were with him. "But _wow!_ What a _rush_ , huh?!" she squeaked, rounding to sit in the driver's seat; buckling them both in securely before firing up her truck. 

Ian nodded back at her, head bobbing idly from side to side. She realized now, that he couldn't quite hold his head up straight. Whatever he was given was working quickly, and she found herself sighing in relief at the notion that she'd gotten Ian out as cleanly as she had.

Her eyes softened, worry overtaking her once again. "We're not far from home, angel," she cooed, placing a soft hand on her former classmate's bony knee for reassurance. With this, she threw her truck out of park and headed toward Ian's side of town.

The ride was spent in comfortable silence, Ian having nodded off at some point, which gave Sadie plenty of time to think. Adrenaline was still pumping through her, and she felt so _capable_. She felt a deep sense of pride in being able to protect Iandore from harm. 

At least until next Summer—when Barley would come home for break—she knew she was going to have to be the one to guide and protect the svelte wizard.

"Come back just in time to break him _all over again_ ," Sadalia sighed, sloppily parallel parking outside of house #313, and casting a long glance over the sleeping bundle leaned against the passenger's side door. _'Now, to get you inside as quietly as possible,'_ she mused, brows knitting together as she put her vehicle in park and shut off the engine. 

She was incredibly thankful to see that Colt hadn't yet returned from his shift, and all the lights inside the house appeared to be off. A few less details to work through. 

" _Hey_ , Doll-face," she called, unbuckling before reaching over to give Ian's arm a firm rub. "You're _home_. You're gonna need to give me your keys, so I can get you inside."

Ian's eyes looked wide and bewildered for a moment as he attempted to straighten out, but ended up falling face-first into the dashboard. " _Ouch_ ," he deadpanned, giggling soon-after.

Sadalia rolled her eyes, unable to stop herself from smiling. " _Perfect_. Just _perfect_ ," she crabbed, stepping out of her truck and rounding to Ian. 

After a few attempts at finding his house keys, she realized they were right where they should have been; inside his over-sized, Antoinette Blue, bear-shaped plush backpack. "Don't forget this guy," she smiled, tucking his phone inside it before zipping it closed and offering it to him.

" _Barley_ ~," Ian singsonged, scooping it into his wiry arms to give it a tight embrace. Sadie chuckled in turn, removing his seat belt and guiding him into a quivering stand.

" _Barley_ , huh?" she murmured, eyes softening as her thin friend nodded to her drunkenly. " _Walk with me_ , love," she cooed, gently closing the truck door behind them. "Hold on to Barley, and I'll hold onto _you_." 

It was a statement with more layers than she'd initially intended.

Double-moonlight reflected off of Iandore's periwinkle skin as they went, illuminating the flecks of glitter applied to his neck, collarbone, and exposed forearms; as if he were adorned in stars. Sadalia cast her gaze upwards—finding the two waxing satellites nestled comfortably in a tranquil sea of constellations—then looking back to the pastel mage.

A little piece of heaven, right here in her arms.

" _Oop!_ " Sadie yelped, catching Ian as he nearly face-planted, pulling him back to a stand. " _Sorry!_ My bad," she whispered, brows knitting as she closed the gap between themselves and Ian's front door. 

Fumbling with the lock as gently as possible, Sadalia guided them both inside, thankful that Blazey was sleeping soundly in her lair for the night. But realization hit her as they made their way through the darkened Lightfoot residence. " _Ugh,_ " she groaned, posture slumping a bit, "The _freaking stairs_ , man."

" _No~_ I—" Ian whined, but Sadie hushed him, motioning for him to speak more softly. " _Oh~ Sorry~_ ," he whispered in a loud hiss, sugar and alcohol heavy on his breath. "I wanna sleep in _Barley's_ room~," he informed, pointing them to a closed door there on the bottom floor.

Sadalia's eyes lit up briefly as she breathed a sigh of relief. " _Oh! Good!_ " she hissed back, partially mocking Ian's 'whisper'. 

Trekking to let them both inside the chosen door, a strange smokey musk filled her senses upon entering. She quickly fumbled for a switch, filling the cluttered room with amber light.

" _Wow . . ._ Have you guys ever _cleaned up_ in here?" she mumbled, closing them both inside. "It kinda _stinks_ ," she grimaced. 

Ian's brows pinched together, rounded eyes looking to Sadie as though she'd stricken him. "Th-That's _Barley's_ smell~ I-If mom _cleans it_ , he'll be _all gone~_ ," the willowy elf nearly whimpered, a hint of his former raw nerve returning to him.

And just like that, Sadalia's heart melted.

" _Oh_ , right," she mused, a sad smile tugging at her lips as she guided them through the rows of dirty laundry—folded and organized—lining the floor. She carefully stepped over the stacks of uncrumpled, smoothed and compartmentalized papers that accompanied said laundry, as they went. 

" _So_ ," she began, laying the lithe spell-caster into the pile of clothes littering Barley's bed, "your brother organizes his trash and dirty laundry?"

Ian chuckled, the sound sweet on Sadie's ears. " _No_ ~ _I_ do~," he admitted, watching her with rounded eyes as she pulled off his boots. "I like to come here~ But I _hate_ the mess~."

This brought a genuine smile to the girl's lips. 

That was so very Ian. 

" _Right. Of course_ ," she sighed, taking a seat beside him on his brother's questionably starchy bed. "Well, you're _home_ ," she announced. A soft smile reached her tired eyes as they met with Iandore's golden-brown ones. "How are you feeling?" she asked, extending a hand to feel the fever still present in her friend's dewy little body.

"I feel _amazing_ ~ Everything feels _nice_ ~ The light is like a _star_ ~," he mewled, smiling softly as his dilated gaze wandered to the amber-toned light bulb above.

" _Right. Of course_ ," she repeated, concern in her voice. She reached down then, taking his soft, clammy hand within her own; bringing it to her lips for a lingering kiss. "Get some _sleep_ , angel," she cooed, placing his bag (keys inside) securely within his arms before standing to leave. "I'll text you when I'm home, but I hope you'll be asleep—"

" _Stay_ ," Ian interrupted, empty doll eyes searching for Sadalia's as she slowly turned. " _Please?_ " He sounded a bit more focused, a softly trembling hand reaching out for her. "I'll let you do _anything you want_. If you just _stay_. _Please_ ~?"

Sadie's eyes softened then, welling with tears. Guilt and hurt gripped her as she shook her head, watching an unreadable expression wash over her petite friend's flushed face. "I'm _sorry_ , love. We don't wanna do anything we're gonna _regret_ ," she wavered, reaching out to quickly entwine her fingers in Ian's outstretched ones, only to release them a moment later. " _Please_ get some sleep. I'll check on you _tomorrow_ ," she called, crossing the room and flipping off the light before the young mage had a chance to protest. 

" _I love you, Iandore_ ," she called, a single tear veiled in the cover of night as she took her exit, shutting the door to separate them.

Ian laid very still, eyes adjusting to the blanket of night gently draping the room. Unfamiliar emotions washed over him in a milky swirl. In the darkness, he swore he could still see the stars above through the ceiling; a dense sea of Heart's Fire and æther. Smiling as he extended a hand—the very one Sadalia had kissed—he used his narrow fingers to stir at these stars, watching as the patterns bowed and rippled before his rounded eyes.

Outside, Sadalia sat at the wheel of her truck; a few stray sobs wracking her frame as she fired up the engine. Heaving a few deep, cleansing breaths, the girl studied her reflection in the rear-view mirror, eyes narrowing at the sight her own weakness.

She shuddered a sigh as she pulled her phone from her weathered messenger bag, quivering fingers angrily flipping through a series of screens to reach her social media Instant Messages. She landed on Barley's name, quickly jotting in a message:

_'hey... i dont think i can do this anymor—'_

She hesitated. Her puffy eyes read over her statement, typing the final 'e', then removing it . . . She angrily hammered the backspace key, erasing her feelings and beginning anew:

_'do you even care how much it hurts to know that i can never have his heart because it already belongs to you—'_

Another sob escaped her as she paused, absorbing her confession . . . Slowly, through clenched teeth, she backspaced; breathing deeply with each tap, letting the pain escape her before trying again.

> Sadalia: i just got him home... hes safe but someone gave him something weird at the party... can you please text him? he needs you.

She hit send, shuddering one last heavy sigh before tucking her phone away, throwing her truck into drive, and taking off into the hazy drift of after-hours traffic.

Inside, Ian felt like he was flying. Every nerve in his body was humming with a feint pleasure, stars swirling before his eyes. He giggled to himself, lost in amazement as he nuzzled into the familiar scent of his elder sibling. The sensation and scent of being enveloped by the illusion of Barley's arms made his heart skip a beat—

His bear-shaped bag buzzed to life, a dull glow emanating from somewhere inside it. 

Ian gave the kitschy satchel a puzzled look, mind swirling for answers as he reached a conclusion: _'A text?'_ His clammy fingers struggled with the zipper, losing half of the bag's contents in the process of removing his phone. But he'd done it. He raised it high into the air, beaming triumphantly before opening his Lock Screen:

_'Daddy: Hey..U alright?'_

His eyes found it difficult to focus on the screen, the bright light in the darkness appearing as alphabet soup within a solar flare. He tried—through his chemical haze—to figure out how he used to dim his screen . . . Had he _ever_ done it? He was certain he had—Another message came through.

_'Daddy: U awake buddy?'_

" _Yeah~ I'm awake~_ ," he slurred aloud, brows furrowing as he flicked at his screen in frustration, finally managing to pull open what he could scarcely make out as a little panel containing several levels. " _Oh~ Yay~_ ," he giggled, quickly flipping them all downward; one of them being the screen's brightness setting. 

And just like that, he could see.

He made short work of entering his Text Messages, finding two marked unread, fresh from his elder brother.

> Iandore: Yyyeeeaaahhh!! ! I'm awake How ar e you??

He hit send, grinning as the status of his message changed to 'Read' immediately.

> Barley: I'm good..I haven't heard from U in a bit..How's life?

Ian considered this for a moment.

 _Life . . ._

He couldn't understand the question. He knew he should, but he simply couldn't. It frustrated him at first, but the dull ache of his mind misfiring hit him in his loins instead. And this confused him further. His body wasn't making any sense, but he couldn't manage to be afraid of it. He swallowed thickly, hearing his ears pop.

> Iandore: I feel greeeatt!! Thanks for askingg!

His phone's auto-correct was doing him a great service, even if it wasn't perfect.

> Barley: That's good..Hey..U kno I love U right?

Ian balked, a wash of emotion hitting him that his brain couldn't metabolize. His eyes welled with tears, but his body felt pleasure; a pleasure that went straight to his boyhood. He wasn't conscious enough to bite back the little whimper that escaped him, dropping his phone onto his half exposed chest. His trembling fingers seemed unable to hold onto it in that moment.

> Barley: I miss U every single day I'm here

Upon feeling the vibration against his chest, Ian's breath hitched again, twitching fingers trying desperately to pick his phone back up and reply. And after a few failures, he finally succeeded.

> Iandore: I misss you too Bar. !! I wish we couuld go back three ee years.

Another wave of tremors wracked his frame, but he held onto his phone as tightly as he could, feeling the shell of his ears beginning to fill with warm fluid. He laughed then, a bit too loudly, more tears spilling.

"Why am I _crying_ when I'm so _happy_ ~?" he inquired aloud.

> Barley: Yeah man..Don't we all?

> Barley: Hey..

> Barley: Why don't U ever message me back?

> Barley: Do U still hate me?

The messages came in quick succession; while Ian tried to reply to one, he'd receive another.

> Sadalia: hey lovely. made it home. had fun tonight. hope you feel better. night night.

Doe-eyes flickered with confusion as Ian struggled to perceive the little banner with his friend's name and message appearing, then disappearing, in the midst of Barley's texts.

Another mental misfire, and another attack of pleasure.

> Iandore: No ! Why wouldd I hate yo u? I love you Barr! . I' m sorry for the wayy I am.

As he typed through the tremors of pleasure that wracked his tiny frame, he could feel the distinct sensation of mucous escaping his nose; running down the side of his face in a way that he registered to be tingly and warm. But he knew enough to wipe it away.

> Barley: Because..Of how things turned out
> 
> Barley: I kno I hurt U when I met someone else
> 
> Barley: I had a hard time with that too..Plz believe me
> 
> Barley: But I think we both kno that we're poisonous for each other
> 
> Barley: Let alone the fact that Ur my lil bro
> 
> Barley: It was time for us to move on and gro up
> 
> Barley: I was never rlly good enough for U..I was always disappointing U..Hurting U..I still hate myself for that
> 
> Barley: U deserve so much better than what I could ever give U..I want U to find someone who can give U everything U need..Or at least everything I want for U

Ian's stomach was on fire. The jolts of euphoria wracking his svelte frame were beginning to metabolize as little giggles, tears and mucous pooling in his ears.

It was such a delightful thing, to know in the back of his mind that he was having a severe attack, but all that he could experience was pleasure.

He wished everyday could be this way.

> Iandore: Don' t worry Daddy. I undderstand! I was goin g through alott! I made many mistakess myseelff. I know I hurt yo u too! I'mm so sorry for tha t! I nevver appolo gized over the years ! I'm so happyy That you me t sommeone who make s you feel wworthy. You deservve that mor e than anyone !

His heart was palpitating, and stomach was lurching; but it felt like velvet joy, and all he could do was laugh.

Wave after wave of crystalline laughter chimed through the darkness, blending into gentle moans every now and again. His tears tickled his cheeks and ears as they pooled, eventually running onto the bed behind his head. The tightness in his pants was unbearable, but wherever he touched himself, he was nearly too sensitive.

> Barley: Ian..I appreciate everything U said man..But plz don't call me that anymore

Ian thought his heart was going to burst.

He felt so full. 

Like the world was made of butterfly kisses, and they were all just for him. 

A trembling hand pressed into his mouth; laughter escalating into hysterics.

> Barley: My girl uses my phone every now and again
> 
> Barley: I don't need her finding messages like that..Like ever
> 
> Barley: Ok? Not trying to hurt U, but it had to be said

Ian felt a swell in his throat.

He wasn't certain what was happening, but he knew enough to quickly lean over the edge of the bed; a little stream of liquid and foam escaping him to pool onto the floor.

It felt so good, to finally let it all go.

As strange as it was, it all felt so magical. He'd never been happier to be having the conversation he'd dreaded for so long. 

Everything was beautiful. 

_Barley_ was beautiful.

At least, _to Ian_ , he was beautiful. 

Every word the man had ever said, in love or in anger; a sonnet.

Ian's mind waded through the warmth of this past Summer; white clouds of pure mythril gliding high in the air over Barley's cerulean head of hair, as he pulled up in the patchwork van he would always be so proud of. He looked so strong, as he stepped out of Guinevere and into the driveway. 

The girl who slid out of the van to join him, looked like a living daydream. Nearly lilac skin, and silky periwinkle hair. Every inch of her was curved in a way that made Ian's heart stop. 

He remembered briefly, that he'd spent some time after her first Summer visit trying to achieve those very curves. 

Trying to measure up to her in any way he could.

> Barley: Ian? U there bro?

He'd forced himself to eat everything he knew to be fattening, in a desperate attempt to fill out. It had always been difficult for him to gain weight. It was just in his genetics.

But he pressed on.

> Barley: Did U fall asleep on me buddy?

Only to find that he wasn't filling out the way he'd hoped. _Testosterone_ coursing through his veins, he found himself _broadening_ , but not _curving_. He'd known better. But he'd been hopeful.

At least—to his relief—it hadn't taken long for his body to return to its wiry base.

> Barley: I'm gonna go to sleep soon..My roommie's out for the nite, so I'll be able to sleep in

A string of vibrations tore his mind from the whirlpool of his thoughts, watery eyes finding the light of his phone to be a bit less of an offense suddenly.

> Iandore: I'm still here. I'm sorry! Are you tired?

An immediate 'Read' notification appeared.

Ian found his mind beginning to quicken, a numbness replacing the pleasure that had so violently overtaken him. 

His euphoria was waning. Retreating. He could still feel it inside him—somewhere beneath the surface—but it was dissipating.

> Barley: Yes..But I want to be here for U
> 
> Barley: U kno I'm always here for U right?
> 
> Barley: No matter what, Sir Iandore
> 
> Barley: I'm Ur big bro..I will always make time for U
> 
> Barley: I wish U could come up here and spend a weekend on campus with me
> 
> Barley: If U wanted to I could ask my roommate
> 
> Barley: There r so many places I wanna take U, kiddo

Ian found his eyes—mostly dried now—locked to his screen, watching the stream of messages appear one by one. He knew he probably looked crazy: Fluids dried to his face, bile on the floor next time him, lying in a pile of his brother's dirty clothes. Erection scorching the front of his jeans.

> Iandore: Hey Bar?
> 
> Barley: Yep?
> 
> Iandore: Send me a picture?

The message was marked 'Read', but the queue of an oncoming text had begun—then ceased—then began anew.

> Barley: What do U mean?

Ian smiled, a hint of that previous delicious warmth stirring in his chest.

> Iandore: I want a picture of you, please.
> 
> Barley: Uh..Ok

A few moments passed, Ian's lids becoming heavy as he waited for a reply—until a picture materializes.

It's a picture of his older brother with a group of his Willowdale friends, new beau included. 

Ian knew he had an emotion to feel, but it wouldn't materialize. Instead, he smiled lazily, an easy warmth filling his head and his chest.

> Iandore: Not like that. From right now!
> 
> Barley: No man..I look like trash right now..I've been studying all day
> 
> Iandore: Do you want me to send one first?

Ian giggles as the indicator tells on his brother; Barley deliberating over his next message

> Barley: Do U have all Ur clothes on?

Another giggle escapes the little mage, but it rubs him the wrong way. It feels disingenuous.

> Ian: Yes. Do you want me to take them off?

Barley appears to deliberate for a while on what to write, as Ian chews his bottom lip.

Lithe little hands scurry to undo his button-up, finding it easier to focus, but more difficult to move. He strains to pull himself into a seated position, shrugging out of his sweat-soaked top. He feels like every muscle group in his body is bruised. The offending jeans containing his hardness are the next to go, the full length of him appearing rosy with heat in the dull filter of moonlight creeping in from outside. He hadn't worn any underwear to the party. He just assumed he'd lose them anyway—

A buzz catches his attention.

> Barley: Ian..Plz don't talk like that
> 
> Barley: U kno I'm trying to stay on track
> 
> Barley: I'm very happy where I'm at
> 
> Barley: Plz stop trying to make this harder on me

Chocolate eyes glinted dangerously beneath the dull, unflattering light of his cellphone.

Ian didn't feel _anything_ anymore. 

Nothing, save for his need for release.

> Barley: Can't risk what I've got going on right now

Ian reached behind him, picking up one of his older brother's musty shirts to wipe his nose and mouth clean as carefully as he could. Once he was satisfied, he opened up his camera; aiming it downwards from above to capture as much as he could of his glimmering form, boyhood standing at full attention.

He sent the first picture to Barley, then the second . . .

He notices the photos are seen, but there isn't an immediate response. So he takes the initiative to snap a few more; rolling over and arching his back to present his pert, rounded ass to the camera.

He sends the third photo, and then a fourth . . .

Another moment of silence, and his phone cries out with an incoming video call: _'Daddy'_.

He hesitates, heartbeat thudding in his chest to create a trace of his previous rapture.

But he knows he wants to answer. And so he does.

For a moment, he simply lies there in the dark, watching his brother's face appear; expression unreadable. 

Barley looked so different, going into his third year.

His hair had grown a bit, likely due to a combination of his usual sloth, and a lack of proper funding for scheduled haircuts. He'd eventually allowed his trademark bristle to grow out into a rather decent beard and mustache. 

But best of all, Ian thought, were his new glasses. 

Barley's eyesight had begun to fail him only a few short months after their initial quest, but the man never wanted to admit it. However, when it came time to explore his campus for the first time, he'd found himself getting lost here and there, unable to read the signs until he was almost on top of them. And thus, glasses.

_Bearded Barley, with glasses._

Ian's teeth gnawed his lower lip, a little whimper escaping him.

" _Hey,_ " Barley grumbles, Midas-toned eyes unreadable through the glare on his spectacles. "Why'd you send me all that stuff?" 

The youngest Lightfoot flushed. His brother's voice sounded thick, a little deeper than he'd remembered.

"I-I'm _really horny_ , Daddy," he found himself stammering, heat rushing to his face as as he said the words aloud. Barley said nothing, so he pressed on, "I'm _so_ horny," he purred, hand reaching down to tease one of his pert nipples where Barley could see. "I-I wish you could come _fuck me_."

Barley cleared his throat, swallowing before seeming to sink back into his bed. "You want _me_ to fuck you?" He smirked into his words, but Ian could tell he was trying not to. " _Tell me why_ ," he ordered, and Ian could see him fumble with something out of sight.

The willowy elf began making a show of pumping two fingers in and out of his wet little mouth, watching as Barley's tongue flickered out to rest on his bottom lip in response. 

"Tell Daddy _why_ , Ian," he grumbled. At this point, Ian _knew_ there was something going on off-screen. The telltale sound of firm, repetitive friction giving it all away.

"I-I miss Daddy's _cock_ ," he shuddered, giving his fingers one last lick before resting them against the head of his need. "I-I want you to blow your load inside me l-like you _used_ to".

The young mage was sure he saw Barley bit his lip to stifle a groan in response. 

"Why did you _tease me_ like that? Why are you making me _be bad_ like this?" Barley's voice was heavy, his camera's slight shake was telltale enough to figure out that he that was enjoying himself.

" _I-I just . . ._ I-I want you to _w-want_ me again, Daddy," Ian whimpered. Enough of tonight's dangerous surprise remained in his system, that his member felt nearly twice as sensitive as he was accustomed to. He desperately wanted to see more of his brother, but he was afraid to ask for any more than this. "I want you _so much_ —"

"You _know_ I want you, Ian," Barley rumbled. "Do you have _any idea_ . . . how much I want that _sweet ass_ wrapped around my dick? Every _single time_ I see you. _Every single time_ I visit," the older man's half-grunted admittance made Ian's pulse quicken, heat rushing to his neck and face. 

" _R-really_ , Daddy?" Ian stammered, a little mewl escaping him as he found himself verging on over-stimulation. "W-well why _don't_ you?" And with this, he rolled onto his side, arching his back in an attempt to show off for his elder.

Barley's breath hitched, brows knitting at the sight, swallowing thickly. 

The love he'd known his whole life was laid bare before his weary golden eyes, and he was nowhere near to touch him. 

"Things are _different_ now," Barley's voice was dry as he struggled to keep his phone steadied on his face and chest. "We can't keep _doing_ this."

Iandore's heart flitted somewhere between a drop and a race at his brother's spoken law. 

" _Sh-she doesn't have to know_ ," he smiled—all pouting lips and doll eyes—and he watched Barley's brows furrow as a thick moan escaped him. "It can be _our little secret_."

He knew how to play this game with his elder; and he did so very well, and very unfairly.

" _Y-yeah?_ " Barley strained, lips drawn into a half-snarl as Ian pivoted his camera to show off. 

The delicate hand stroking at the length of his own need, the soft shimmer of glitter and rhinestones that clung to his pastel skin; all shone like fireworks beneath the dull light of his screen . . . It was all too much for Barley to bare 

" _Fuck_ , baby . . . You're so _gorgeous_ for Daddy."

Ian grinned pridefully at his brother's approval, warmth and pleasure flushing his glistening skin a warm shade of lilac. "Show me that _big dick_ , Daddy," he shivered, upper teeth grazing his lower lip as Barley complied.

And it took his breath away.

It always did.

Barley was so much thicker than Iandore, it was almost comical. They weren't all that far apart in _length_ , really. But the sheer _girth_ and _weight_ of Barley's manhood made Ian weak in the knees.

" _Please come fuck me, Daddy_ ," the younger Lightfoot practically sobbed, brows pinching into peak at his forehead. "I want you _so bad_."

Barley's hand was held steady as he raised his hips to buck into it, and Ian could hear his warm breath against the speaker as he did so. The older elf's manhood looked overly engorged, veins along the shaft threatening to burst at any moment.

"I'm gonna _pop_ , Kitten," Barley warned, struggling to keep his camera steady, "Open _wide_ for Daddy."

And without a moment's hesitation, Ian did as he was instructed; catching a glimpse of himself in his front-facing camera as he opened his mouth, extending his tongue as though it would catch his brother's seed. 

With a strained series of grunts, Barley made good on his promise; rope after rope of his viscous release erupting to land at his pelvis and stomach, driving Ian over his own edge. 

With a strangled whimper, Ian's release began just as his elder brother's had ended, adjusting the angle of his camera to show off the dance of iridescent ribbons that escaped him; a glaze of pearls set to befriend the glimmer of diamonds sprinkling his belly.

After a few moments spent in silence, Barley raised a calloused hand to rub at his eyes, fingers scooping beneath his glasses for a moment. He held very still, breath appearing to steady as he pulled his hand away along with this glasses. 

The elder Lightfoot's hazel eyes brought twin rings of dying starlight to Iandore's clouded mind; a newfound emptiness and strangeness rooted deep within them, that made the junior's stomach sink in understanding.

" _Look_ ," Barley grumbled, forcing a gentle smile, "I've gotta go now, Ian."

The young spell-caster's heart slowed in his chest at the broken tone of his brother's voice. " _S-sure_ ," he smiled, brows knit in concern as guilt began to creep into his muddled consciousness. "Thanks for talking to me, Bar."

Barley's dense brows furrowed in return, and he opened his mouth to say something . . .

But he sighed instead. 

"Sure thing, little bro. We can talk tomorrow," he smiled, a bit more genuinely than before, "Sweet dreams. I _love_ you. _So much_."

And with that, he was gone; Ian's screen returning to the messages they'd shared prior.

" _So much_ ," Ian parroted back, sinking into the chilled embrace of his new reality.

They never made good on their promise to speak again the following day.

In fact, it would be years before either of them would see or speak to the other again.

But they held hope in their hearts that, when they did, it would be on the best of terms.

That their next reunion would feel like the summer of Iandore's sixteenth year.

Like their world was made of butterfly kisses.

And they would all be just for them.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always hoping to improve my work, so I'm open for critiques and constructive criticism.
> 
> Thank-you so much for reading!


End file.
